


splish splash

by buckgaybarnes



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Moving In Together, Shatterdome Era Hijinks, Shower Sex, Showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-25 19:42:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18170612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckgaybarnes/pseuds/buckgaybarnes
Summary: There’s just one issue, really, one tiny, little thing, something so small and insignificant that Newt feels dumb complaining about it, especially considering that, in all other regards, Hermann is a truly fantastic boyfriend. It’s the shower situation.





	splish splash

**Author's Note:**

> for some reason last night i was tweeting a bunch on my side accnt about a scenario in which newt and hermann move in together and then have a passive-aggressive battle over the showerhead? and then i couldnt fall asleep and my wips were giving me grief so i just...wrote it
> 
> for comedy's sake i made the showerhead ridiculously, and probably inaccurately, high, so please just go with the flow

“Man, that was great,” Newt says. “Five stars. Ten out of ten.”

“I wasn’t aware I was being judged,” Hermann says.

Newt stretches out all four limbs, like a starfish, and then wraps himself around Hermann’s side. He pillows his chin on one of Hermann’s pecs. “If it’s any consolation,” he says, “the criteria wasn’t very strict.” He holds up a hand and starts ticking down each finger as he speaks. “It was fun, it was hot, and it was romantic. Bonus points for Little Hermann.” He pats Hermann’s hip, then waggles his eyes. “Or _Not-So-_ Little Hermann.”

“Please don’t name my genitalia,” Hermann says.

“That’s fair,” Newt says.

Newt looks down at himself. He’s got a few hickeys scattered here and there (chest, spots he can’t see but can sure feel on his neck and shoulders), a bruise rising on his thigh from where Hermann gripped him _tight_ , some come drying and already flaking on his abdomen and between his legs. What he needs, more than anything, is a shower. This, unfortunately, poses an ultimatum to Newt: does he leave now (so soon to midnight), when he’s _so_ comfy in Hermann’s arms, and risk Hermann being asleep and thus unable-slash-unwilling to answer the door by the time Newt treks all the way to the communal showers, scrubs himself clean, and then treks all the way back? Or does he wake up early tomorrow morning, losing precious sleep and time in Hermann’s arms, and clean himself up before work? Either way, he’ll be doing a walk of shame down a hallway covered in Hermann Gottlieb’s jizz. It’s a dilemma.

Maybe he can seduce Hermann into showering with him, something which would make the entire process just that less arduous—Hermann, after all, is covered in _Newt_ ’s jizz. Newt bats his eyelashes. “So,” he says, “I bet there’s no one at the communal showers right now.”

Hermann looks at him strangely. He's still catching his breath. “I suppose?”

“If you’re up to it,” Newt tiptoes his fingers down Hermann’s chest, to the little patch of light hair at his pelvis, “maybe you and I could…”

_Strangely_ morphs into _apologetically_. “Oh, Newton, I’m sorry, I’m far too tired for anything else,” he says. “You’re welcome to use my shower, though.”

Newt freezes. “ _Your_ shower?”

Hermann nods. “My private shower.” He points at the wall opposite the larger-than regulation bed. Nestled between his dresser (overstuffed, with exactly two picture frames placed neatly and symmetrically on top) and a single sad-looking cube of a chair is a cracked door. A cracked door that Newt must’ve missed entirely in his single-minded haze of getting from the hallway to Hermann’s bed and losing as much clothing as possible in the process for _sex_ with  _Hermann_. A cracked door that, when Newt shoves it open and gropes around for the lightswitch, gives way into a _spacious_ bathroom with a full bath (outfitted with a small metal bar) and _two sinks_. “What the hell?” Newt says.

He tosses an incredulous look back over his shoulder at Hermann. Hermann, now stretching over his whole bed, sheet draped over his dick and one hip like some sort of Renaissance sculptor's wet dream, gives him a lazy, smug smile. (His eyes, Newt’s pleased to note, are fixed very pointedly on Newt’s naked ass, which is at least a little gratifying.) “Human Resources is _very_ amenable when it comes to disability friendliness,” he says.

Hermann’s room and bed—both gigantic, at least twice the size of Newt’s, if not more, the floor _carpeted_ , the mattress made of _memory foam_ , the sheets some absurdly high count—suddenly make a lot more fucking sense. Newt couldn’t even fit a dresser in his room. His clothing is divided up between three cardboard boxes and a single skinny coat rack. He’s not envious, though. (He is a little bit.) “Two sinks,” he sighs, and shuts the door behind himself gently.

The resulting shower—hot enough to produce actual steam, with water pressure that makes Newt moan almost as hard sex with Hermann had and four different settings to choose from for the water jets—is the best Newt’s had in a very long time.

 

This is where it begins.

 

It’s _manipulation_ , perhaps, but it’s entirely innocent manipulation, and therefore nowhere near as bad as it would be if Newt had malicious intentions. He’s not hurting Hermann. He’s not stealing from Hermann, or giving Hermann the short end of the stick, or stringing him along. It’s mutually beneficial, and Newt just happens to come out on top twice. (Euphemistically speaking, sometimes Hermann does too.) Newt just...starts creating reasons to use Hermann’s shower on every occasion he and Hermann hook up.

He starts out subtle: a blowjob gone slightly messier than either anticipated, and now Newt’s got jizz all over his chin and neck and he _really_ doesn’t want to walk down the hall to the communal showers like that, so if Hermann wouldn’t mind…? Hermann doesn’t mind ( _of course, darling,_ he said, and then he cuddled Newt all night after), and he doesn’t mind the following time when the blowjob gets even _messier_ and Newt ends up with jizz in his _hair_ (he borrows Hermann’s shampoo for this). He’s less welcoming when Newt accidentally squirts half a bottle of lube over his bare chest ( _I’m certain you could use a washcloth for that_ ), even less so when Newt spills the entire mug of instant coffee Hermann made him over his borrowed set of pajamas. That last one was, maybe, a bad idea—it was _Hermann’s_ pajamas, after all, that paid the price, not any of Newt's.

 

“I know what you’re doing,” Hermann finally says one evening as Newt rides him to his heart’s content. “You could just ask, you know, next time.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Newt says. “At all.”

He rocks back down a bit too hard and loses his balance, putting his weight on Hermann’s knee, and Hermann hisses in pain and seizes up tight. “Easy, love,” he says, tapping Newt's thigh.

“Sorry!” Newt says. “Here—”

He rolls down onto his side and adjusts Hermann accordingly, angling his leg over Hermann’s hip so that Hermann can roll into Newt smoothly and without issue. Hermann loses his tenseness and moans gently. “Better,” he says. From this position, they can kiss better, too. Which Newt indulges in. Enthusiastically, and repeatedly. Hermann cups the side of his face as he does so. “If you’d like to use my shower, you need only ask,” he murmurs into Newt’s mouth. “You don’t have to dream up all these convoluted methods.”

Convoluted is fun, Newt wants to say, but Hermann’s started doing interesting things with his teeth that are more fun, so he says nothing.

Afterwards, as Hermann luxuriates smugly in his afterglow (and Hermann, really, is the only person in the world who Newt can possibly imagine being smug about an orgasm, even when Newt did most of the work), Newt wriggles out from the arm Hermann’s draped across him and pads to the carpeted floor. Banging Hermann regularly has done wonders for his hygiene. “I set out a towel for you,” Hermann says, not even bothering to open his eyes. “Don’t make a mess.”

“God, I love you,” Newt says without thinking.

There’s a bit of a tense silence. They have not said that to each other yet. They’ve only been sleeping together for a few months or so, after all, and Newt meant it lightly, the way you’d tell a friend, maybe, or even a little sarcastically, but Newt’s a little taken aback to find he means it in the Big Way nonetheless. He still panics a bit.

“I mean,” he says, “that’s not—what I meant. I meant—”

“Newton,” Hermann says. He sits up, tentative. “I do, too.”

“Oh,” Newt says.

 

* * *

 

Hermann’s bed fits them both just fine on a regular basis, and the barren top of Hermann’s dresser and the equally barren bookshelf (a single ledge, high above the bedside table built into the wall, coated in a fine layer of dust) fit Newt’s dumb knick-knacks and other bits of sentimental junky clutter just fine, and Hermann’s dresser drawers somehow manage to fit Newt’s clothing just fine. Sharing a room is somehow four times easier than sharing a lab with Hermann. Newt’s not sure what it is. They’re both too tired when they finish up at work to argue when they get home, maybe, or maybe it’s because it’s more of an _intimate_ space, or maybe it’s just because their frustration and irritation with the world and each other just has a different, more rewarding outlet here. If Newt leaves a sock on the floor, for example, rather than snapping at Newt, Hermann will just fuck Newt really, really hard to make sure he remembers it for next time. (The logic’s a bit flawed, maybe, since that's not exactly a punishment, but whatever.)

There’s just one issue, really, one tiny, little thing, something so small and insignificant that Newt feels dumb complaining about it, especially considering that, in all other regards, Hermann is a truly fantastic boyfriend. It’s the shower situation.

The dozen or multiple dozen or so times Newt used Hermann’s shower, before he became a permanent resident of Shatterdome Bunk #0445, it was never too much of a hassle to adjust the showerhead temporarily so he could use it. Hermann’s not much taller than Newt, only a handful of inches (no more than four), but those handful of inches make all the difference when it comes to the shower and angling the jets of water just so. And now every time Newt goes to use it—every time he hops in after a successful round of sex, or washes off some remaining residue of gunk from the lab (which is probably not good for the non-reinforced pipes not meant explicitly for hazardous material like the shower in the lab, but, whatever), or just wants a  _shower_ , he has to spend a good minute or so adjusting the showerhead just right. And those minutes are precious. Those are minutes he could be spending having more sex with Hermann, or cuddling with Hermann.

Mostly, though, Newt’s just lazy. And also _just_ on the side of being too short to reach the showerhead, since Hermann’s is weirdly high, so it involves a lot of stretching.

If Hermann just...angled it back down, maybe, each time he finished his shower, or at least switched it to the setting Newt prefers (the most aggressive one, the one that makes him feel like he's getting a fucking great massage), he’d save Newt a lot of time and groping around.

He finds out—the night of exactly a month of cohabitation—that he’s apparently been annoying Hermann with his own shower habits as well.

“I noticed you forgot to re-adjust the showerhead when you finished yesterday,” Hermann says, as they’re dressing for bed.

“What do you mean?” Newt says, knowing full well what Hermann means.

“Nothing too serious,” Hermann says. “Only, you left it at setting four, and angled low.”

He slips into the right side of the bed.

“Oh,” Newt says.

Newt slips into the left side of the bed.

“Funny,” Newt says. “ _I_ was going to say that _you_ forgot to adjust it when _you_ finished.”

“That is funny,” Hermann agrees.

“Coincidences,” Newt says.

“Yes,” Hermann agrees again.

Eyes narrowed at Newt, Hermann shuts off the light.

 

Newt leaves the showerhead at Setting Four and angled low the next time he showers. Hermann leaves it at Setting One and angled high the next time _he_ showers. The cycle continues.

 

Nothing really comes to a head until two weeks after that passive-aggressive conversation, on an evening where they’re both a little tired, both a little grimy, and both a little horny, and Hermann (coated in a fine layer of chalk dust) puts his hand on Newt (coated in a fine layer of electric blue, but non-toxic, _something_ ) and says, voice all low and sexy, “Why don’t we shower together?”

Hermann really is a genius.

He’s also easily distracted, so while Newt brackets him against the wet wall (Hermann gripping tight onto the metal bar for more than just his usual support) and works both his hips and mouth against Hermann’s, he very, very subtly stretches on his tiptoes, raises his hand, and _slowly_ angles the showerhead into his preferred place. After three clicks, it’s on his preferred setting, too.

Hermann makes a single, disgruntled noise into his mouth. “Newton,” he says.

Then Newt takes Hermann’s dick into his hand, and Hermann makes an entirely different noise. “ _Newton_ ,” he says again, markedly more amorous.

Using a combination of water and some of Hermann’s lavender-scented body soap, Newt starts to bring him off in quick little strokes. After a few seconds, he nudges his dick alongside Hermann’s and wraps his fingers around them both. “Mm-hmm?” Newt says. He has to squint a bit to see Hermann, since he can’t exactly wear his glasses in the shower and the stream of water in his eyes is making it even harder, but there’s an obvious flush spreading down the top of Hermann’s chest and his eyelids are fluttering like mad. Newt tightens his grip and braces his other hand on the shower wall. “‘S good?” He mouths at Hermann’s neck.

“It is,” Hermann sighs, rolling into Newt’s fist. “ _Oh_ —”

Newt pulls his hand away, slides to his knees, and takes Hermann’s dick into his mouth in one smooth motion. A second later, he pulls off with a little gag and a wince: he’d forgotten to wash the excess soap off of Hermann's dick. It doesn’t taste _great_. “Fuck,” he says, “okay, gimme a hot second—”

He gropes around for the washcloth he brought in, but only manages to knock over Hermann's bottles of shampoo and conditioner with an loud, echoing crash.

“What in the blazes are you doing down there?” Hermann says.

Newt feels a brief spike of panic. Irritated Hermann is one step closer to Hermann Who Realizes The Shower Isn’t On The Setting He Likes, and that Hermann is a passive aggressive bitch. “Nothing,” Newt says, and he takes Hermann back into his mouth quickly. The soap taste, at least, fades after a few minutes of vigorous sucking. Either that or Newt just gets used to it.

Hermann tangles the fingers of one of his hands in Newt’s wet hair and presses him closer, forcing Newt to take him in further. They moan in unison. The weight of Hermann on his tongue, the hot water streaming down his body, Hermann's touch—fucking euphoric. “That’s lovely,” Hermann breathes, “that’s perfect, dear, you’re doing so excellently—”

Newt’s a sucker for praise, especially the eloquent, if not often somewhat stilted, praise Hermann dotes out on him with enthusiasm, and Hermann knows it. Hermann frequently uses it to his advantage. Hermann could be using it to his advantage right now, actually, and Newt should suspect something, but God if everything doesn’t feel so great that he doesn’t want Hermann to keep right on fucking into his mouth and calling him nice things. He shuts his eyes and swallows Hermann down to the root with another happy little moan.

This is a mistake. The stream of water switches, almost instantaneously, to the gentle Setting One, and in another instant, it’s angled up so high that Newt’s left completely bereft, wet, and shivering, with only the light spray of water deflecting off Hermann's body. He squints up hazily at Hermann.

Hermann’s arm is stretched up towards the showerhead. His mouth is twitching into a grin. He tugs on Newt’s hair with his other hand. “On you go, then.”

Newt pulls off, a trail of saliva and precome running down from the corner of his mouth. “You bastard,” he says.

Hermann tilts his head back, the hot water running down his neck, and he lets out a little hum. “Mm.” He pats Newt’s cheek, wipes his thumb over the precome. “Be a good boy for me, Newton.”

Grumbling, and very, very horny, Newt sets back to work.

 

They call a truce as they dry off together on the fluffy bathmat, Newt kneeling so he can properly towel off Hermann’s legs. “I promise I’ll adjust it for you when I’m done from now on,” Newt says.

Hermann runs his fingers through Newt’s hair. “I’ll do the same.”

Newt smiles up at Hermann. “We’ll have to figure out the shower sex part later,” he says

Hermann eyes the bathtub contemplatively over Newt’s shoulder. “It doesn’t _necessarily_ have to be a shower.”

**Author's Note:**

> imagine how much water they end up spilling
> 
> find me at my usual spots (hermannsthumb at tumblr, hermanngaylieb at twitter), as well as my nsfw twitter hermanngayszler (for 18+ only) where i post dumb concepts like this. comments feed me!


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